


You Converted Me to Many Things

by Loz



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fantasizing, Kissing, M/M, Pining, Spoilers for 3.02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-16
Updated: 2013-06-16
Packaged: 2017-12-15 04:31:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/845349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loz/pseuds/Loz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This thing he feels for Stiles, this constant edge of exasperation and reluctant amusement --- it’s affection.</p><p>As insights go, this should seem… bland. Minor. Something to be easily brushed off. </p><p>But it isn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Converted Me to Many Things

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JenNova](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenNova/gifts).



> Written for [JenNova](http://archiveofourown.org/users/JenNova/pseuds/JenNova), on occasion of her birthday (sadly belated.) Title from the Maximo Park song "Reluctant Love", because Jen mentioned it as a Stiles/Derek song once, and I've heard it as an anthem ever since.

There are many things he doesn't like, his joy in simple existence has been low since he was a kid, but at the top of the list of his dislikes are epiphanies and startling realizations. He’s too old, too world-weary, too life-battered to be learning new shit about himself now. 

He is learning new shit. Seemingly every day. It’s incredibly frustrating.

This thing he feels for Stiles, this constant edge of exasperation and reluctant amusement --- it’s affection.

As insights go, this should seem… bland. Minor. Something to be easily brushed off. 

But it isn't. Because he hasn't let himself feel affection for anyone in a long time. He argues that his protective instincts toward his betas, his family, and Scott are normal Alpha-related concerns, that they’re more about duty than emotion. He’s tried to claim the same about Stiles, but it never entirely works. (And if it doesn't actually work regarding his betas, his family, and Scott? Plausible deniability.)

He expects their connection to be about the things they have in common, when they both finally understand that they get along. And he does expect it, because they’ve been closer month by month and even though he won’t admit it out loud, something within him trusts Stiles. Sometimes it trusts Stiles to fuck everything up, though that’s increasingly not the case. 

He assumes that one day Stiles will make a joke that cracks his reserve, shatters it into a thousand pieces, until he can’t help but smile. There’ve been occasions he’s thought it possible. A wry observation. An absurd situation and a well-timed comment. Or it may be that he slips and ends up spilling something secret, how he feels about missing his family --- how, sometimes, having Cora and Peter around makes everything worse, because they remind him of all he’s destroyed --- and Stiles will talk about his missing mom, the guilt Derek once heard him explaining to Scott, and they’ll have that, that tie that binds them together. 

They have a lot of parallels between them, but they never talk about it. Sometimes Stiles talks at him, but he chooses not to respond. There are lots of similarities Stiles doesn’t know about, that Derek prefers not to openly acknowledge. Stiles is dangerous enough with the meagre information he has, let alone what he could do knowing that Derek has opinions on Christopher Nolan’s Batman trilogy (he knows Stiles would find humor in his dismissal of the movies as ‘too dark’.) 

At the moment, all they have are Stiles’ little challenges and Derek’s refusal to back down. And still, even with so little conceded between them, this thing that Derek feels is enjoyment. Appreciation. Warmth. 

Which is why, this one time, he’s not going to omit. Not even if it would be for the best.

“Look, I know you don’t like me,” Stiles says, face sharp and tight and just this side of bitter, “but can’t you listen to me just this once?”

“I like you,” Derek replies; not answering, but replying all the same. 

It’s an admission too far, probably. The worst kind of mistake --- the knowing leap. No recourse in ignorance. But Derek’s past caring about that, and well on his way to caring for others. 

Stiles rolls his eyes along with his whole body. It’s exaggerated and clearly intended to be comedic, but not very funny. 

“Your acerbic wit is astounding, no, really, you’re a regular Louis C.K, but I’m serious.”

“So am I. You think I’d still be interacting with you if I didn’t like you, Stiles?”

Stiles looks wrong-footed, confused. “Er, yeah, because you usually have no choice.”

“I’m the alpha. I always have a choice.”

Stiles scoffs. Stiles gives an epic, mocking, cold smirk. Stiles stops still when he finally realizes that Derek’s waiting patiently to continue their conversation. His eyes are wide, trained on him like he can’t believe he’s real.

“Does that mean you’ll listen to me?”

“No. But you deserve a shiny gold star for trying,” Derek deadpans.

“You know what? I really wanna say that I don’t like you right now, but that’d be churlish and you’d hear the lie anyway,” Stiles storms. 

He has a definite pout. Derek traces it with his eyes. Thinks about tracing it with his lips. It would be soft and sweet, he thinks. The first time. But then Stiles would snap at him, can never be too kind. His long fingers would curl around Derek’s wrists and he’d tug him forward, break into his reserve with a heated press.

Derek sighs. He’ll hear what Stiles has to say sooner or later. May as well be sooner, get the pain over and done with. 

“What is it?”

“What’s what?”

“The thing you want me to listen to? Your uncompromising wisdom?”

At first, Stiles takes a step back, rocks on his heel, but then he gets a calculated look in his eye. Derek is powerfully reminded of all the reasons why he always wants to keep his distance from Stiles, all the excuses he has as to why he fails, all the heartache that comes with affection and trust and honesty. Because that’s knowledge in Stiles’ countenance, plain and simple. Stiles always sees more than anyone would want him to. 

“You should teach me how to fight,” Stiles says, bluntly. It seems like a non sequitur and it takes Derek a second to understand that it’s not. It’s the request. The demand. 

“I vividly recall our verbal sparring,” he counters. “You know how to fight.”

“I know how to argue. My mouth is no real match for muscle.”

Derek doubts that’s true, actually, but he doesn’t reveal the observation. He thinks about teaching Stiles, about the need for close contact, about the shine of sweaty skin, the tight cling of a wet shirt. He thinks about Stiles’ hair falling across his forehead, him swiping the back of his fist against his lips, red blush surging over his skin like an invitation. He thinks about having all of Stiles’ concentration for hours, more. Them collapsing against one another at the end of a bout; Stiles weak-limbed and him weak-willed. 

“Okay,” he says.

“Okay?” Stiles asks.

He gives a long-suffering roll of his head. “If I must.”

Stiles smirks again, but this time it’s smug, filled with something that can only be described as fondness. Derek never thought anyone would ever gaze at him like that again, and it socks him in his solar plexus, leaves him winded and flailing for air. Stiles doesn’t pull his punches.

“I hope you realize I’m onto you,” Stiles says, stepping closer. 

Give him an inch and he’ll take nine miles. He brushes his palm over Derek’s forearm, tilts his head in enticement. Derek wants to take everything back, pretend it was a cruel joke, but he can’t, he’s trapped. Stiles is watching him closely, clearly noting every short hesitation, each belabored breath. He doesn’t force the issue. He waits, tapping his fingers lightly against Derek’s skin, until the suspense is a claw scoring along his spine. 

Derek leans into him, bends when he could be snapping, and kisses Stiles gently; a barely-there brush of lips that shouldn’t feel so obscene. 

At the top of the list of his dislikes are epiphanies and startling realizations, and Derek’s never hated awareness more than right this moment, here. This thing he feels for Stiles is more than affection.


End file.
